


Quilt

by baeberiibungh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Bunker, Love, M/M, Sharing quilt, childhood gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:09:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was barely better than a rag, this piece of memory that Dean always made sure to tuck into a corner of his duffel. It was like the last caress of Mary’s hand over his brow years after her death...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quilt

It was one of the few things that escaped the fire inescapably. John picked it up the time he went after, finding only ashes of Mary in the burned out husk of a home. He had passed it on to Dean without a word and Dean had pressed it to his cheek, black with soot and smelling of licking flames, and had wept into it. He held it with one hand, while with the other he held onto Sam as tight as his small pudgy little fingers could, as if afraid that if he even blinked, Sam would go away like Mary. He slept that night with it spread over himself and Sam even though it was too small for both.

It was a quilt that Mary had sewn for Dean, with his first step inked into one grid and another held his handprints, chubby and without any articulate lines on them. Mary had told Dean that she would keep making more for him and the day he got married, she would put all the small ones together and make a big quilt for him, for him and his partner to share. Dean didn’t like that and insisted that he would never share and Mary would just laugh at the bright little boy who she loved more than her life. 

Mary never got to sew any more, and Dean carried the one he had, singed and burned on one corner, his whole life. At first he used to keep it in his duffel, but then they once had to leave all their stuff behind and make a run for it with only the impala and what she held. Dean cried and begged and just about had a fit asking John to go back and get his bag. When Sam started crying too, John backhanded Dean, screaming how it was not important, but Dean did not let on. It was the last thing of his mother’s he had, he won’t give up so easy. 

John had cursed and snarled and then finally asked Bobby to bring the bag. At first Bobby had been reluctant, thinking it a bad move to go to a place pretending to be a fed just hours after John had been busted playing one, but then Dean snatched the phone and told Bobby why he needed it, hiccoughing through his tears, and Bobby promised to have it with him the next time they dropped in on him. Dean thanked him and sent him a kiss over the phone for agreeing and John just looked on in disgust.

It was 8 months later when they did drop on him again and the first thing Bobby did was hand over the bag with the quilt washed and folded nicely into a small cloth sack pushed into a corner of Dean’s duffel. Dean gave Bobby an extra long hug that day just because of that. And since then, Dean kept the bag in the car, hidden below the bottom of the false bottom. It felt like a blessed totem from his long dead mother to Dean and was something he touched before he went on any big hunt. He still took it out someday, but it was sad how badly it had deteriorated.

It held on through Dean’s death, his stint in hell, the apocalypse, the leviathan, the angels and demons and everything that came in between life and them. Then they got the bunker and the dirty, faded torn little piece of a quilt made with love by a mother decades ago got a special place to be shown off with pride in Dean’s room. He still touched it sometimes; still felt the love below the grime and through the corner of the faded colours and he felt cherished as he had when he was a child. 

It actually took Dean a few days to notice that the quilt was missing. It was gone. He made a frantic search of his room, throwing all his stuff aside, shouting at Sam and Cas about how he had told them not to touch his shit, but got no reply. Fuming at how no one was answering him, he stalked to the kitchen, planning to chew a new one on whoever was responsible for removing the quilt. As soon as he stepped into the dark kitchen, someone switched on the light while someone else let out a huge party cracker.

“Happy Birthday Dean,” wished Cas with a soft smile. Sam did the same, while thumping his shoulder. Wrong footed at how furious he was feeling with the sudden surprise, Dean stammered out his thanks and started to ask about his quilt when Sam handed him a big lumpy present. Still trying to ask, with a more modulated voice, Dean opened the wrapping paper impatiently and stilled immediately when he saw that it was the quilt, but bigger, and with the colours all restored.

Unable to believe his eyes, he opened the whole thing and saw that the quilt has been somehow restored to its original colour and shape and that someone had sewn new gaily coloured borders on it so that it can now fit two people easily. His hands feel shaky and his eyes watery when he looks at his brother and lover. He tried to say something, but nothing comes out, while he pulls the quilt to his chest and smells it and wonders of wonder it actually smells like his mother.

“I sewed the borders and Cas mojoed the colours and form back into blanket. I hope you like it Dean,” Sam said smiling just as softly as Cas. Dean gave both of them tight hugs while he said his thanks and ran his fingers through the soft fabric. They had cake and pie and beers and pizza too and through it all, Dean held onto the quilt and kept rubbing his face into it. And that night, when Dean and Cas went to sleep, they shared the blanket smelling like home in their bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually sad that Sam never got one of those from Mary. He was too small to take his steps by the time Mary died after all. Unbetaed. Thank you for reading. Comments let me know how I am doing so please, comments an kudos are greatly encouraged.


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